


The Morning Hunt

by Destini Islands (Destini)



Category: Dr. STONE (Manga)
Genre: Action, Developing Friendships, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Minor: Kinro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:08:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27273946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destini/pseuds/Destini%20Islands
Summary: My collab piece with artist Knee (give her a follow over at Twitter she's awesome@saopbar) forGood Morning World: A Dr. STONE Zinepublished earlier this year!She cocks her head to the side. Did he really suggest that his skills were superior? With an impatient exhale, Kohaku decides to settle the matter in the way she deems most fair.“Then… let’s make it a competition. Whoever catches something first.”
Relationships: Kohaku (Dr. STONE) & Saionji Ukyou
Kudos: 15
Collections: Destini's Zines and Gifts





	The Morning Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> It's my birthday :) So I'm uploading some older fics today!

There’s always something to be built, something to be evolved, and something new to be reborn out of what was lost. In the rush of spring, this doesn’t change - the Kingdom of Science continues to toil in their work, hands sweating despite the cool breeze of the mountains and the sweet scent of blossoms floating over the camp. But even with discovery blanketing their tents just as warmly as the coming sunrise, there are ways of the old that have never changed in their importance. And thus, Kinro doesn’t hesitate to identify the two who will be tasked with fulfilling that necessity — the early morning hunt.

He pushes up his glasses, fogged with his soft exhales, and speaks concisely so that he can move on to other matters.

“Ukyo. Kohaku. You two will work together for the hunt this morning.” Kinro glances over their faces, seeing that they’ve heard him, and walks away. In his wake, he leaves a quiet peace that’s only interrupted by the chirps of distant birds and two sets of eyes that seem to be able to speak on their own as they meet across the clearing.

Ukyo’s arms fold when he watches Kinro go and then tighten as he sees Kohaku approach. Her footsteps have no regard for the bug she’s stepped on and her eyes glint. They have the focused light of a hunter who is used to the thrill of the chase — to the point where it is ordinary, rudimentary. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to them. And because of it, he doesn’t know if he can ever be her partner for something as serious as taking another life.

She’ll be efficient - but at what cost? The woman who he has seen lose her temper, ready to attack at a moment’s notice, will probably not extend any courtesy to weaker creatures she only sees as food. If someone is prepared to kill a human being, could they extend sympathy to something like a deer or a bird? His thoughts settle in his mind. They become conviction, weighted, and heavier with each step she takes toward him.

Kohaku twirls her spear, letting it glide between practiced fingers before standing firmly in front of her partner for the day. She’s never hunted with Ukyo but it shouldn’t be a problem. Typically, she goes out alone because she is all that is needed. Tasked with feeding an ever-growing group, perhaps a partner might be nice for once. She knows what Ukyo can do with that bow and is cautiously optimistic.

Ukyo must not share the same sentiments. He’s closed off as usual but today he is guarded with shifting eyes, uneven breathing, and tense shoulders. However, they don’t tell his whole story — his eyes speak for him before his mouth ever does.

He doesn’t want her help.

“You should find another task. I can do the hunting myself, it’ll be easier to go alone.”

So that’s what it is. Ukyo thinks she’ll slow him down. Perhaps he’s forgotten who she is, but she can remind him in turn. Her grip tightens on her spear and she watches his eyes graze the flexing muscles of her forearm.

“How about _you_ find another task and _I_ go alone? Surely you can find something else you’re good at.”

Ukyo doesn’t scowl from her mocking words but his mouth twitches. It’s a brief movement that tells her he won’t back down. He raises his head, meeting her eyes and refusing to squint even as new stripes of early morning sun cast across his face.

“I’m fairly efficient at hunting. I think it should be me.”

She cocks her head to the side. Did he really suggest that his skills were superior? With an impatient exhale, Kohaku decides to settle the matter in the way she deems most fair.

“Then… let’s make it a competition. Whoever catches something first.”

This time he does scowl, his newly uncrossed arms causing the sun rays to disappear and reveal the dark shadow over his gaze.

“Killing is not a competition.”

“If you win,” she continues undeterred, “you can go alone and I won’t bother you again. Otherwise, we’re going together.”

She says it with conviction, lifting her spear and laying it across her shoulders in one, fluid motion. Ukyo steels himself and sighs before readjusting his quiver.

“So you’re on?”

“Fine,” he mutters.

There’s no countdown, no warning. Kohaku leaves behind only wind as she rushes into the thicket with Ukyo chasing. She climbs a tree as if it's a stairway and glides so easily from branch to branch it appears she’s walking. Ukyo hears their prey only a second before she spots it. The white rabbit has made no obvious mistakes in its stealthy traverse of the forest floor - it’s just unlucky. Ukyo can hear every soft thump of its feet like an ultrasound and Kohaku follows every faint movement brushing against the forest foliage.

She leaps over a small clearing and uses the next tree to spin, accelerating to not only catch up to the rabbit but surpass it. It panics and makes a sharp, right turn into oncoming, hissing danger. Ukyo fires an arrow into the dirt just in time to startle the rabbit from making the fatal error of being captured by a camouflaged snake.

Kohaku makes her move only then. They never meant to work together, it was _supposed_ to be a competition. Yet, for a moment, the world moves in slow-motion.

**[Knee’s single page comic here: _Kohaku descends from the trees shouting "Ukyo!" to which he responds "Thank you, Kohaku!" He stretches his bow further, thinking, "Just a bit more..."_ ]**

It’s over.

There’s nowhere left for the rabbit to go. A tree positioned directly behind the bush rattles once, audible only in Ukyo’s ears and visible only to Kohaku’s eyes. All that’s left is the final blow. A soundless thanks rests on his closed lips and a prayer forms in his heart as Ukyo’s bow draws forward for the death he must personally deliver. He ponders the irony of Kohaku’s gentle, ruthless pursuit when he was so hasty to label her a brute.

Her hand, easily as gentle and swift, clasps in front of the pointed arrow. She’s hurt herself on the sharp edge just to stop him from firing. He doesn’t move but his eyes find hers in the corner. Her eyes are elsewhere - waiting - but for what?

He doesn’t believe she's the type of person to tease her prey. Not anymore.

Ukyo lowers his weapon and looks to his partner, who pulls away from the bush and motions for him to follow her. He can hear something new, now that he’s focusing on something other than the hunt. He hears more than a single heartbeat, just barely out of sync, pulsing. He can hear everything as he walks behind Kohaku to peek around the bush - her hitched breath, the drop of blood from her newly injured hand, and the still-vibrating string of his bow.

Kohaku stops when she finally sees what she suspected. The crowd of tiny, pink bodies that cuddle into the rabbit are barely visible under her mass of white fur. She feels ashamed that she didn’t realize it sooner. The clunky way the rabbit moved, the fact that it stopped at all, and the unusually desperate speed in opposition to its size are all so clear to her now.

The mother has been trying to protect her babies by staying far away, although they’re clearly far too young to have been left alone in the first place and with an immature nest at that. Ukyo is quiet behind her as her guilty eyes meet his. She wants to apologize, although not here and not now.

But Ukyo is smiling.

He stares at the family for a while longer before exhaling and redirecting his attention to her. It’s too late to pretend she hadn’t been gawking but he doesn’t seem to mind her. She observes his lingering smile with apt curiosity as he docks his weapon and steps back. Ukyo’s the one who leads now, beckoning her from the bush with a barely-there nod. Kohaku loosens the grip on her spear and trails behind until she’s matched his stride.

They begin to retrace their steps, the hum of the forest returning to relaxation now that their bloodlust does not scare away the chirping birds and cautious mammals.

She clears her throat. “So… maybe we hunted _too_ well together.”

“Is that so?”

The amused lilt in his voice is the only push she needs to feel her smile matching his. She doesn’t know him very well, does she? He’s not as stoic as he likes to let on. Part of her wonders how she ever thought so at all with the way the sunlight reflects off his shining eyes and grinning teeth. “Of course,” she giggles, “We found eight rabbits all at once.”

A hearty chuckle leaves his throat as his eyes continue to retrace the road back to camp. “Or perhaps we hunted worse, we’re coming back with nothing.”

“That’s probably what Kinro’ll come up with. I guess you were right to not want to go with me,” she laughs.

Ukyo’s smile wavers and he exhales. Perhaps she went too far. But he stretches out his worries with a slow roll of his shoulders. “We’ll need a rematch.”

She blinks over at him and finds her voice comes out measured. “Really?”

He shrugs. “Sure, or a second competition,” he says. Kohaku doesn’t miss the small smirk that twitches on his face, come and gone in an instant. “Unless you’re forfeiting now.”

“Ha!” Her retort is automatic and spirited. “I’m insulted you’d even make such a ridiculous joke.”

“So… you’re on?”

“You’re on.”


End file.
